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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23619961">A Drunken Confession and a Warm Embrace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouibon/pseuds/Mouibon'>Mouibon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Drunk Iwaizumi Hajime, Fluff, Future Fic, I haven’t read Haikyuu manga so sorry if I get characters’ future jobs wrong, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, One hundred percent unedited, T because of drinking and cursing, This is a fic I really wonder ‘wtf was I thinking when I wrote this?’, This was intended to be an Iwaoi fic but half the fic turned out to be Matsuhana, as always, this doesn’t really have a plot; only fluff really</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:28:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,431</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23619961</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouibon/pseuds/Mouibon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Matsukawa is used to bringing his friends home after a night of drinking. Oikawa especially, who loves talking about how cute and sexy and amazing Iwa-Chan is.</p><p>There’s one night where Oikawa stays at home for once, and Iwaizumi is being driven home. Matsukawa brings up the topic of Oikawa, just as a joke, expecting Iwaizumi to complain a little...and Iwaizumi starts going on and on about Oikawa, what he loves about him, and how excited he is to get home to him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime &amp; Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>182</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Drunken Confession and a Warm Embrace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So,,,,,</p><p>This was a fic started in December 28th of 2019, and it took me THIS long (and a quarantine) to finish it. Also, this fic was meant for Iwaoi day (both 1/4 and 4/1) but I had things going on. RIP me and my school schedule.</p><p>This entire fic was based on a tweet about this person driving home a drunk man, who was VERY excited to see his wife again. Just needed to put that out there in the open.</p><p>As said in tags, this is 100% unedited, so this may be bad, and I’m sorry. There is zero real plot. Sorry.</p><p>Btw Hanamaki is called ‘Hiro’ in this fic, and Hanamaki is also a cellist (just to explain a line he has in the fic). This also has Matsukawa as a POV character for half the fic (which I didn’t intend, but don’t worry, there’s still a lot of Iwaoi!)</p><p>Anyway, hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Despite all expectations and stereotypes, Matsukawa Issei is not a drinker.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The taste of burning whiskey, or the power of vodka, or even the sweet taste of wine never settled with his stomach. Nor his taste buds. It was something that surprised him, when he first turned eighteen. People always said that alcohol was tasty, that it ‘made you feel good’. He was excited to try...and at the first sip of whiskey, he gave a funeral for his taste buds. The headache he got later, after passing out, killed any positive feelings for alcohol.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oikawa liked alcohol much better than he did though. And Hiro could down a jug of beer. Even Iwaizumi could drink some whiskey, if asked. This left him as the sole, lonely non-drinker.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">And</span> <span class="s1"> the designated driver.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">It wasn’t something he minded though. He got to see Oikawa kiss the floor, thinking it was Iwaizumi’s mouth, or see Hiro actually consider eating</span> <span class="s2"> a jug </span> <span class="s1">when Matsukawa suggested it (as a joke). He got to see Oikawa mumbling nonsense about That Time ‘Iwa-chan’ did something nice and how it was </span> <em><span class="s2">so</span></em> <span class="s1"> romantic and </span> <em><span class="s2">totally</span></em> <span class="s1"> the best thing in the world. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The blackmail material he had was </span> <em><span class="s2">priceless</span></em><span class="s1">.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(At this point, Oikawa and Hiro were going to break his phone, to stop him from filming them. The only thing stopping them was their love for him.)</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">(No one needed to know that he deleted all of those blackmail videos. He wasn’t an asshole, and he had enough fun just looping them a few times. But god damn the blackmail helped when Hiro wanted ten more cream puffs than the Monthly Creampuff Limit allowed. And the blackmail got Hiro to have that cute, pink blush of embarrassment, so </span> <span class="s2">that</span> <span class="s1"> was a bonus.)</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Needless to say, Matsukawa was a certified “Designated Driver with Idiot Friends (and Boyfriend)”, and so he got used to carrying people. And wrestling them out of fights. </span> <span class="s2">And </span> <span class="s1">dealing with rowdy drunks. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What a life.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—————————————————————</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Matsukawa dragged an Iwaizumi Hajime out of the bar, almost bridal-carrying him at some point. Which was a bad idea. How did Iwaizumi get bridal-carrying Oikawa to look so </span> <em><span class="s2">easy? </span></em><span class="s1">Jesus Christ he should have tried to weight lift back in high school.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Iwaizumi had that monotone voice, the one that only people who have lived for a long time had. Which was ridiculous—Iwaizumi was </span> <em><span class="s2">twenty-three </span></em> <span class="s1">for god sakes. But it fit the bleak words coming out of his mouth.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matsukawa gave a internal sigh of suffering, trying to ignore the existential bullshit that was coming out of Iwaizumi’s mouth. Stuff about the inevitability of death and the meaninglessness of humanity’s existence and the fact that everyone’s going to die someday. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Look, Matsukawa’s entire day was the biggest shit show on the planet. First, morning decided to bless him with the hottest day ever. Then he fucked some shit up with co-workers, and then the Terrible Boss (not the nice one) had to yell at him for a straight hour, and </span> <span class="s2">then</span> <span class="s1"> there was the extra paperwork. Add some misunderstandings with clients, his apparent failure at doing his job (editing books), and it was the perfect recipe for a shitty day.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">(And the rain. Rain just </span> <em><span class="s2">had</span></em> <span class="s1"> to come right when he left work.)</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">And Matsukawa thought that relaxing a little with Iwaizumi would </span> <em><span class="s2">help</span></em><span class="s1">. It would be a quiet night out, just the two of them, and it would be fine and dandy. The bandaid on the wound, so to say.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">It </span> <em><span class="s2">was</span></em> <span class="s1"> the quiet night out at first, with banter and quiet joking, and they had a room to themselves, so it was all good. It was good to be with a fellow quiet person. Sure, Matsukawa knew that Iwaizumi would get drunk, but he thought that Iwaizumi would simply be a little out of it. A little weird, but still himself.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nope. Iwaizumi wasn’t himself. He was a man in constant existential crisis.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And unfortunately, Matsukawa was the victim of said existential crises.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Matsukawa opened the car door with one hand and held Iwaizumi up with another. There was still mumbling, and </span> <span class="s2">Jesus Christ</span> <span class="s1">—if that saying about a man being the most himself when drunk was true, Matsukawa really needed to cheer up Iwaizumi more. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He seated the man down, and then went into the drivers seat. For a moment, Matsukawa rested his forehead on the top of the wheel, letting the cold sting of the leather sink in. What a pitiful sight. He was in a car with one of his bestest friends of all time, looking as if the world was going to end because of </span> <span class="s2">one.</span><span class="s1"> Bad. Day.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Iwaizumi wasn’t at fault here. Honest. If Matsukawa had to choose between a thousand existential-crisis-having Iwaizumis and a life without Iwaizumi, he would choose the former any day. It was just that it was a long day, and maybe Matsukawa was overreacting, but he </span> <span class="s2">really</span> <span class="s1"> did not want to get an existential crisis today, on top of all the other bad stuff. Existential crises made his heart feel like the time his baby sister almost ran into a car that one time two years ago. A severe pain made of pure, unadulterated fear. And </span> <span class="s2">everyone</span> <span class="s1"> had the fear of dying, that burrowed deep into the heads of the poor people who decided to think too hard about their existence.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(Well, <em>most</em> everyone. Hiro never seemed to give a shit about death. But still.)</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All that Matsukawa wanted to do at the moment was go the fuck home, wait for Hiro to get home, and then just do whatever with Hiro for the rest of the day. Sleep. Eat terrible food. Stare into each other’s eyes like the pair of disgusting lovers they are. Whatever.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Iwaizumi’s mumbling in the back reminded him to get the fuck up though. If Matsukawa was going to get the fuck home, then he needed get his head out of his ass and drive. And </span> <em><span class="s2">fast</span></em><span class="s1">.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He texted Oikawa as he started up the car. There were ten texts from Oikawa for every one text Matsukawa made, and he wondered if Oikawa’s hands were on fire. Probably. No one could text this fast, right?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid: </span> <span class="s1">MMMMAAAATTTTTSSSUUUNNNNNNNN</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid:</span> <span class="s1"> I NEED</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid</span> <span class="s1">: IWA CHAN</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid: </span> <span class="s1">RIGHT</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid: </span> <span class="s1">NOW</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Mattsun: </span> <span class="s1">Yeah I’ll deliver your prince</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Mattsun</span> <span class="s1">: He’s kind of drunk now though</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid: </span> <span class="s1">I don’t care</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid: </span> <span class="s1">I’ve literally drove for eleven straight hours just to get home</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid:</span> <span class="s1"> I need to see his face</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid: </span> <span class="s1">I’ve done a good job at the Japan vs Eng vball tournament too!</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid: </span> <span class="s1">I got everyone some stuff btw</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid: </span> <span class="s1">But ANYWAY</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid: </span> <span class="s1">I need to see Iwa chan!!!!!!</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Mattsun: </span> <span class="s1">Wait wtf 11 hours?</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid: </span> <span class="s1">The cheapest flight was in Kyoto so I went there</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid: </span> <span class="s1">And drove to Tokyo</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Mattsun: </span> <span class="s1">Wtf </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid: </span> <span class="s1">What?</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid: </span> <span class="s1">Even if it’s a long trip it’s fine as long as I don’t waste money</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Pretty...Stupid</span> <span class="s1">: and Iwa chan is real grumpy in the morning so I drove home</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><em><span class="s2">So that Iwaizumi wouldn’t drive for twenty-two hours just to pick me up</span> <span class="s2">and go home.</span></em> <span class="s1"> At least, that was the implication.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If Matsukawa had to give Oikawa something, it was that he cared about the people he loved in the most roundabout ways possible.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Mattsun: </span> <span class="s1">Stop texting me</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Mattsun: </span> <span class="s1">I’ll get your stupid Iwa chan to you</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s3">Mattsun: </span> <span class="s1">legit I’m going to drive rn</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He put his phone on</span> <span class="s1">silent, going to drive. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">————</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There is a certain trick one can do with a drunk Iwaizumi Hajime.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">That is, one can ask him a question about a topic, and he would rant about it until another question is asked. Then he would rant about <em>that</em>, </span> <span class="s1">and repeat.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So far, Matsukawa has found that Iwaizumi hates crab meat with a vengeance, hates the misogyny that can be found in gay media, and wonders if what the feeling of being shot or being stabbed is like. Of course Iwaizumi talked about other things, but the above were the highlights.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was a winters night in January, and snow and ice made the roads slippery. This made the journey of getting Oikawa’s beloved ‘Iwa-chan’ home much harder and longer than it had to be. And traffic was a shit, on top of all of that. Matsukawa wasn’t looking at his phone, but he knew that Oikawa was probably spamming it. Typical Oikawa.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Then again, it was Iwaizumi’s and Oikawa’s anniversary today. Or at least the anniversary of them getting their shit together and confessing on the last day before winter break. Maybe it didn’t mean much to Matsukawa—he couldn’t remember the </span> <em><span class="s2">month</span></em> <span class="s1"> of the first date with Hiro, and he only knew today was an anniversary because of Iwaizumi—but it probably meant a whole lot to Oikawa, and that was what mattered.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(He drove a little faster thinking about it. Maybe Oikawa could get a little annoying, but the point was that this was the first time Oikawa came home in a long while. And Iwaizumi and Oikawa were two people who were linked together by soul. Trying to separate them is like trying to remove every atom on earth: if done, it would upset the balance made by the universe.)</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(Two people who were supposed to be together were separated. Now, the only thing separating them was a whole lot of traffic.)</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Now that he thought of it, he glanced at the rear view mirror. Iwaizumi was still not passed out, surprisingly enough. His mouth was still moving; was he </span> <span class="s2">seriously</span> <span class="s1"> still talking about the meaninglessness of the universe? </span> <em><span class="s2">Seriously</span></em><span class="s1">?</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matsukawa kept his eyes on the road—as normal, competent human beings do—and kept driving. But then he thought of an idea.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To be honest, Oikawa may have thought Iwaizumi as the vast, beautiful earth, but Iwaizumi thought of him as the sky. Perhaps even the sun. And Matsukawa really wondered what drunk Iwaizumi thought of Oikawa...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, Iwaizumi!” Matsukawa could hear Iwaizumi stop talking, and prop himself up. “How much do you like Oikawa? One to ten?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi said, a little breathy. He then gasped.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">It was then that Matsukawa thought, ‘</span> <span class="s2">Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.’</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Do you know how pretty—sorry, </span> <span class="s2">beautiful</span> <span class="s1">—Oikawa is? Holy shit I can’t even look at him without wondering how in the world I got someone so pretty. Or with such a nice voice too. Too bad he uses it to say some truly stupid stuff. God damn he’s lucky he’s so cute. He keeps on going on and on about him being shit or something and I just want him to look through my eyes for once cause then he’ll get. It. Into. His. Head. That. He. Is. Amazing. But then again, Stupidkawa would probably </span> <span class="s2">still</span> <span class="s1"> think he’s shit. Which he isn’t, god damn it.”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Time to take back the last thought. This was the </span> <em><span class="s2">best</span></em> <span class="s1"> idea he had ever gotten. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matsukawa got to a stoplight. As the light turned from red to blue, he took out his phone. Put it on the camera app. Hit the record button.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">This was going to Oikawa. He was </span> <em><span class="s2">not</span></em> <span class="s1"> going to hide this from Oikawa.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Iwaizumi was going to be </span> <em><span class="s2">so</span></em> <span class="s1"> embarrassed in the morning.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And then there’s that stupid smile. Like what the fuck? What the <em>fuck</em>? It’s way too pretty when it’s real. When he’s not being fake, it’s literally illegal how nice he smiles. Oikawa literally looks the closest to an angel. What the fuck? No one should look that much like an angel when they smile.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Honestly same, Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa said, thinking about Hiro’s laughter. It was </span> <em><span class="s2">so</span></em> <span class="s1"> nice. “Honestly </span> <span class="s2"><em>same</em>.</span><span class="s1">”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“He’s so much of a brat. And I </span> <span class="s2">love</span> <span class="s1"> him for it holy shit.” Iwaizumi went on as if he couldn’t hear. “I can say all I want that something’s not a good idea or that it’s unreasonable or that he’s being embarrassing, but in the end, guess what I do?”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do what he wants?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I do exactly as he wants, complaining the entire time. Trashykawa probably knows that power he has over me too. And I can’t even be mad at him either! It’s me that caves in. The weird thing is? I don’t even hate caving in. I actually like it, for gods sake. What kind of person am I?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A masochist?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em><strong>No!“</strong></em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matsukawa was sincerely trying his best to keep his eyes on the road but he was laughing to the point of tears. Luckily, they were getting close to the Iwaizumi-Oikawa apartment. And traffic was letting up.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, that’s for the little things, anyway. Oikawa is a shit when it comes to the big things, ya know? I have to stop him from insulting people he really shouldn’t, and from practicing. Holy shit no person should ever practice that long but he really gets on my nerves cause god damn it you are enough! Get it? But I don’t mind somehow, cause I chose to be with him, and god damn it to hell, I actually like this man. A lot. Like what the hell, who gives a shit that he has all those flaws or whatever? All I give a fuck about is the fact that I would literally hate it if I wasn’t with him for forever.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s cheesy as hell, Iwaizumi.” A few more minutes and he would stop seeing text notifications from Oikawa.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know! And I just want to get home to him—when am I getting home—but—“ Iwaizumi started coughing. The ranting had gone on for a real long time.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You alive back there?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just...tired.” But Iwaizumi still seemed determined to go on his rant, and Matsukawa raised his voice before anything could be said.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dude. Once we get home, we’ll get you some water, okay? Then rant about your undying love or whatever.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Says the person who literally carries Makki every time you’re in public.” And wow, turns out Iwaizumi was </span> <span class="s2">still</span> <span class="s1"> a perceptive asshole, even when drunk.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” And then the familiar peak of the Oikawa-Iwaizumi household came up, with all of its white and teal glory. The house was practically the sighting of heaven to Matsukawa, despite its plainness. <em>Finally.</em> He could go home after this. Fucking hell.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey Iwa—“ Matsukawa leaned over to look at the passenger seat...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Only to find a asleep Iwaizumi.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sighed. As the car was stopped already, he came out and had to drag Iwaizumi out. Again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">(Was his heaviness because of his loads of muscle? There was no other reason Iwaizumi was </span> <span class="s2">this</span> <span class="s1"> heavy, right?)</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He knocked on the door. And, while Oikawa was </span> <span class="s2">way</span> <span class="s1"> too happy about the idea of carrying Iwaizumi, at least Matsukawa got a pic of the exact moment Oikawa realized Iwaizumi’s weight.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———————————————————————-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matsukawa wobbled in like a old man with a weak knee, jumping onto the couch without even looking at Hiro.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bad day?” Hiro didn’t even look up—the fucker—taking a nap on the other couch they owned. Matsukawa groaned an affirmative. “Hungry?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matsukawa groaned a no. And—even though his face was planted right into the couch—he knew Hiro was smiling. “Want me to come over?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I would like to go to bed instead, thank you very much.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">”Going to bed’s nice, but I’m way too lazy. Getting up’s hard.” Hiro stretched, yawning. “Long day for me too, honestly. My arms are literally going to fall off, from how fast the stupid accompanist pianist is.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then come over here. We’ll suffer together.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hiro breathed out a laugh. “I don’t have socks right now. You complain about my cold feet, ya know?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come here,” Matsukawa said, annoyed. His arm patted the armrest of the couch, the cool leather burning through his skin. “Just come.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Okay, okay. You’re so needy, ya know?” And Matsukawa could </span> <span class="s2">hear </span> <span class="s1">the shrug (and smile) in Hiro’s voice as the latter walked over. “Move the fuck over. If I’m going to sleep with you, I need room.”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sleep with me, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know that’s not what I meant, you dick,” Hiro said, laughing as he pushed Matsukawa to be vertical, not horizontal, on the couch. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(Now that Matsukawa thought about it, Hiro’s laugh was a blessing. How common it was even more so. And he knew that if Hiro could read minds, he would be cackling at how cliche that thought was. But it was an honest thought, and that was what mattered.)</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Feel like talking?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nope.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Great. Me neither.” Hiro climbed into Matsukawa’s arms. “I’m so tired. Fuck everything.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matsukawa murmured an affirmation.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">———————————————-</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Epilogue:</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa grabbed Iwaizumi’s arm, and honestly the smile he gave was </span> <span class="s2">way</span> <span class="s1"> too bright and pretty. It didn’t help the growing migraine Iwaizumi’s was getting, nor the pain in his leg. Seriously, did someone drop him? “Look at what Mattsun sent me!”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s six am in the fucking morning, Tooru.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, okay.” And Oikawa laid down, but he was still trying to show his phone and holy shit Iwaizumi’s eyes were about to be burnt out—</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Lower the brightness. </span> <em><span class="s2">Please.</span></em><span class="s1"><em>”</em> And Iwaizumi triedto squeeze the headache out of him, but it only seemed to grow. How much did he </span> <span class="s2"><em>drink?</em> </span><span class="s1">“Please don’t tell me I did something shitty.”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Depends on what you mean by ‘shitty’.” Oikawa </span> <span class="s2">did</span> <span class="s1"> turn down the brightness, thank god, but he started smirking like he knew </span> <span class="s2">something</span> <span class="s1">bad. That smile was way too mischievous to mean something good. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mattsun just sent me something.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mattsun always sends things.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Yeah! But—“—And Oikawa fitted his head into the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck—“It’s very </span> <em><span class="s2">interesting.</span><span class="s1">”</span></em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop being vague Shittykawa.” Those words would have come out a little more harsh, but it was morning, and Iwaizumi never felt like being harsh to Oikawa was necessary. Maybe tough love, sure, but not <em>harsh.</em> “It’s way too early for brain games.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Hmm.” A peck on the cheek. “Well, it’s a video you would be </span> <span class="s2">very</span> <span class="s1"> interested in.”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just play it.” And Iwaizumi closed his eyes, the warmth of his blanket competing with the warmth of Oikawa’s head on his shoulder. He also held Oikawa’s hand, a action Oikawa reciprocated immediately.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The video’s audio shook him awake. Iwaizumitook a look at the phone.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You love me a lot, huh Iwa-chan?” Oikawa was grinning as if he had won the lottery, and Iwaizumi, if he wasn’t so tired at the moment, would have kissed that stupid smile off his stupid face. “Aww, you think I’m pretty when I smile! You care so much, don’t you? Maybe I should get you drunk a bit more often. You’re so cute when you’re not tsundere—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah I like you Shittykawa. So what?” Iwaizumi then lightly slapped the back of Oikawa’s head—Oikawa let out a loud “Oww!” at this—and decided he would be angry later. It was too early for this bullshit, and way too early to gather the energy to pretend to be mad. “Honestly, lets just go to sleep...”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oikawa decided to get his head out of the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck, instead resting his upper body on Iwaizumi’s chest. His face got awfully close to Iwaizumi’s—close enough to be embarrassing—but this wasn’t even a big deal. The only thing Iwaizumi did was poke Oikawa away. “Aren’t you avoiding the topic, Iwa-chan? Don’t you want to rant more about how much you love me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So what if I am changing the topic? All you need to know is that I like you. Isn’t that enough?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmm. But it’s fun watching Iwa-chan being sweet!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then...remind me to rant about you later. I’m too tired.” And when Oikawa grinned—his eyes squeezing to form crows feet—Iwaizumi knew he was going to regret this later, when Oikawa would probably annoy him about it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At the same time though, Iwaizumi couldn’t get himself to care. He held Oikawa to his chest, his hands running through Oikawa’s disheveled—yet still beautiful, somehow—hair. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A beat of silence. “Aww, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa said. Even though he said it in a teasing tone, his smile was happy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut up. Let’s just sleep.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oikawa smiled, and Iwaizumi couldn’t help himself from looking at it again, admiring it for a second before going back to sleep. And he could feel Oikawa putting his phone on their bedside table, and he could feel Oikawa whispering a teasing “Tsundere Iwa-chan~” into his shirt, but he really didn’t care. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He drifted off to sleep, with a warmth in his chest.</span>
</p>
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